My Mistakes Started With You

Mistake Number 3

 
Chapter Text
How would Xehanort put this? A haven for the somebodies, like the popular and cunning kids or an absolute hell pit for the losers and nobodies. 'Which I happen to be the anotomy of.' That was school. Painful, heart wrenching, 7 days a week of school. 7 days of the same people making him feel like trash without even trying.

It was morning. The sun was almost up and he was getting ready for the first day of the semester. Yippe... First thing in the morning and he already feels like trash....

'Hooray for me and my negativity' his eyes narrowed down to the letter in his hands. How did he manage to get up every morning when he knows the disappointment he'd get from Mr. Eden? Not as if it were new news to him, no, this was actually their regular foreplay before they get to the main course. That is if Xeha ever manages to make do conversations about that party. Just as he thought, Brain seemed to be avoiding that topic as best as that teacher could.

The house was the same as it always was when the holidays ended, empty. Ghostly if Xeha could put it. Anybody would believe that this was an abandoned mansion up the hill that was also apparently haunted. 'Or a cult's headquarters but who am I to think otherwise. At least Uncle Ansem made a bit effort' in making sure this place 'looked' alive to the least.

Making his way down stairs as he caressed through the fine wooded rails. The pictures that decorated the walls told a thousand tales. Most that Xeha never bothered to take interest in because, why would he? He barely cared about himself, so there was no reason to hinder with other troublesome stories.

However, as fair as he could care, he took note of his looks. Strolling along the hallways, he reached the end where a wall covered by a huge mirror hung.

Direly fixing a bit of his side bangs and how his hair was styled naturally. Speaking of natural, even the tan of his skin could barely cover the hideous freckles that swarmed across his nose.

'You ever thought about covering them up with makeup if you hate them so much?'

Like always, his fathers advice fell on deaf ears. No, of course he wouldn't wear makeup. It was a waste of time and besides, there was no reason to why he'd wear them for.

'Are you trying to turn the boy into a-'

The grey in his eyes couldn't stand not to move at ever of his grandfather's complaints. Even when it came to what he wore, the old man always had something to say. That also includes his own father.

'Don't you think the colours you wear are too.... dull? Ever thought of wearing brighter colour instead?'

'Striped long sleeves and a jacket? Isn't that too out dated?'

'The boy wishes to be a convict, so let him. It's better than allowing him to go in a whore's uniform.'

At this point, Xeha could barely fathom how he was able to live with them for 17 years by now. God helped him with the way he was. Well, he was still 'him'. At least the cheap jeans serve right under his granddad's radar.

Busy adjusting his everyday moderate outfit. There was a knock on the door, and he knew very well who would come here this early in the morning.

After the click as the door opened, Xeha had on his all to knowing face as his best friend waited under the porch. Leaning over the frame with his arms crossed. "Era, what did I tell you? The kitchen's back door is always open." The silver haired boy sighed. All to knowing, the curled raven rolled out his eyes.

"Don't you think it's pretty dangerous for it to be opened all the time." Pretentiously, he tried to look his friend in the eye. Xeha never really took account to his own safety. Sure these streets weren't any real danger but it's better safe than sorry.